


Word from the Wise

by Brate



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Brotherhood, Gen, Weechesters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-07
Updated: 2012-05-07
Packaged: 2017-11-05 00:11:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/399754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brate/pseuds/Brate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean gives Sam advice for the prom.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Word from the Wise

God he was nervous. Why was he so nervous? It was just a stupid dance—something normal people did. Maybe that was the problem.

When he found out Sam was going to prom, Dean had been surprised. _Only here two weeks and you've already manned up and gotten yourself a girl. Impressive._

Of course, there was no way Sam was going to admit that _she_ asked _him_. _  
_  
Then Dean was thoughtful enough to give Sam some Dos and Don'ts. _Sharing my wisdom with the younger generation, Sam._

The first piece of advice? _Slow dancing is the only way for you to go. You look like a spaz otherwise.  
_  
Straightening his tie, Sam smoothed a hand over his hair. _This is girl hair, Sam—slick it back. Lesbian scenes are awesome only if you ain't one of 'em_. 

Sam had a condom in his wallet and a knife strapped to his calf. Because when Dean said, _Use protection_ , he totally meant both kinds. Sam honestly didn't think he'd need either of them—he barely knew the girl, for one, and he wasn't expecting _trouble_. 

Feeling traditional, Sam went with a tux rather than a suit. Besides, how many times in his life was he going to have the opportunity to dress like James Bond? Bending down, he picked up his suit jacket and slid his arms into it. Grabbing his wallet, he stuck it in a pocket, startled when his fingers slid across something else. 

"Dean!"

Dean popped his head around the corner. "You chickening out?"

"No," Sam answered sharply. He _wasn't_. "What is this?" he asked, holding up a salt packet, probably picked up from the nearest fast food place.

"Salt…just in case," Dean answered, and disappeared.

Rolling his eyes, Sam went to toss the salt on the bed. Then sighed and put it back in his pocket. One last look in the mirror and Sam was ready. Now or never; he needed to pick up Anna. _Don't forget to call her dad "sir." Chick's dads love respect._ Duh.

Sam stepped out into the living room, smiling when Dean jangled his set of car keys. Sam had beat his brother at rock-paper-scissors in order to be able to drive the Impala.

"There's extra gas in the trunk in case you need to burn anything," Dean said. 

"What, the school?" Sam chuckled.

"Or a body. Whatever." Dean patted Sam, and was almost clever enough to slip something in his breast pocket without notice. Almost.

Sam pulled it out and opened the single sheet of paper. "The rite of exorcism?"

Dean shrugged. "You never know."

"I'll be fine, Dean. It's just a dance." Sam snatched up the plastic box that held his date's corsage. _Get a wrist corsage so you don't have to do the awkward "breast dance" that you would if you got one that pins_. Okay, that one had actually been really useful. Sam didn't need to start off the evening in embarrassment. He was sure that would come later.

"You still look like a girl," Dean said, tugging at his hair.

Sam slapped his hand away. "No I don't." But he glanced at the hall mirror just to make sure. Then he breathed into his cupped hand. "Do I need to brush my teeth again?" 

Dean leaned in and sniffed. "I've smelled worse." 

"Considering we go into graveyards for a living, that's not a high recommendation." 

"You're fine." Dean waved a dismissive hand. "Now, go on and have a good time."

Sam was backing out when he heard Dean call him from the porch. Sam hit the brakes and rolled down the window. "What?"

"I forgot to tell you the most important thing.... If some chick named Carrie gets voted prom queen—run like hell, just in case!"


End file.
